Lamb with Peas, Saffron, and Ginger

When I first tasted a Moroccan lamb couscous I couldn’t completely sort out the foreign, deep sweetness on my tongue. It wasn’t a curry exactly, at least not one of the 6th Street heaps I was used to. It was curry-like but cleaner, I’d say. There was a gentle pull of flavors that never grew weary on my palate the way some too involved curries can. At the time I hadn’t yet been to a good Moroccan restaurant. That first lamb couscous was one I cooked for myself, in the early 80’s, from a recipe in Paula Wolfert’s Couscous and Other Good Food from Morocco. That fall and winter I cooked my way through the entire book. What a mind blower. I had been brought up on excellent Southern Italian food, and what Wolfert was writing about had some similarities, but it went off on a beautiful tangent, adding subtle spices in intriguing ways. I learned that you add only a few spices to any dish. In the case of that lamb couscous, it was the combination of saffron, ginger, and cinnamon that mingled to produce the soft, haunting taste that pulled me right into a new culinary world.

New York’s weather has finally, after a gray and cold six months, turned warm. The daffodils are up. I decided to test a lamb and spring pea recipe in celebration. The root of this particular lamb dish is Sicilian, an Easter stew I’ve made many times, flavoring it traditionally with bay leaf, white wine, and rosemary. This time around I had Paula Wolfert’s Moroccan version in mind. I have to admit I’m occasionally disappointed by the simplicity of Sicilian cooking. I guess I want it to taste more of its long Arab and Moorish past. Sicily has many of the same ingredients—olives, figs, mint, honey, orange flower water, saffron, pistachios, and prickly pears, and they’re all used to make gorgeous food. But for the most part, spices have drifted out of Southern Italian cooking, replaced largely by fresh herbs. I miss the spices.

Sometimes I cook up altered versions of traditional dishes, embellishing them to live up to my fantasies. Here I’ve borrowed my favorite Moroccan triumvirate of flavors—saffron, cinnamon, and ginger—to create a Sicilian-Moroccan hybrid but one with restraint. Adding layers to my familial cooking does give me freedom, but when I fear I’m verging into the realm of betrayal, I pull back. I dread 3 a.m. wake up calls from unrevealed ancestors telling me I’ve gone too far. Ridiculous, but there you are. So any of my Sicilian, Neapolitan, Tunisian, Moroccan hybrid recipes will always make for a fairly seamless blend. Still, I have to say, some of my excursions in this direction have made me very happy.

Dry the lamb well and then toss it in salt, black pepper, sugar, ginger, and cinnamon. Heat a tablespoon or so of olive oil in a large casserole fitted with a lid. When it’s hot, add the lamb, and brown it well on all sides. You might want to do this in batches if the casserole gets too crowded. The lamb should smell of sweet spice. Next add the onion and bay leaf, and sauté, turning the lamb in the onion, until the onion has softened. Sprinkle on the flour, and stir it around so it coats everything well and loses its raw taste. Add the white wine, and let it bubble away. Add the broth and the saffron water. Add water if needed to just cover the meat. Bring everything to a boil.

Turn the heat to low, cover the pot, and simmer for about an hour. Now add the carrots, and continue cooking until the lamb is very tender, about an hour or so longer. Add the peas and the honey, and cook, uncovered, until the peas are just cooked through, about 10 minutes. Check for seasoning, adding salt and definitely a little more fresh black pepper. The broth should be soupy but have a little body from the addition of the flour. Skim the top, turn off the heat, and let the stew sit for a few hours to develop flavor (I find that this will also further tenderize the meat).

When you’re ready to serve it, gently reheat it, and then ladle it out into big bowls, garnished with the almonds and the mint. It will be nice with a side of buttery couscous or grilled bruschetta brushed with olive oil.

Welcome to Ericademane.com

I am a chef, food writer, and teacher who specializes in improvisational Italian cooking. I am the author of The Flavors of Southern Italy and Pasta Improvvisata, as well as Williams-Sonoma Pasta, which is available at Williams-Sonoma stores. A member of the Association of Culinary Professionals and the Italian-based International Slow Food Movement, I live in New York City. I offer private cooking classes, which you can learn about here.